Tropical Beach Vacation
by quickquotetales
Summary: Stolen prompt from my sweet friend SWchica! A teeny tiny short tale about the closest I thought Jo and Alex would ever get to a tropical beach vacation! Happy holidays y'all!


_For all of you who have actually been checking if there were any updates from me 'lately'... I'm so so so sorry to have been MIA for ages! I wish I had more time to dwell on here... anyways, I wrote this a little while ago - borrowing one of SWchica's prompts (thanks sweetie!) - and I thought since it's Christmas, maybe one of you or the other has the time to read this! I miss you all! Hoping for 2016 to be able to at least put one eye on here every once in a while! Hope you're all well!_

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It had been a long day at work and Alex refused to let the disastrous interns, the general chaos in the E.R. commonly seen during holiday season, barking orders from new hospital heads and frustrating cases get to him. He sighed, arranging himself to put his legs on the coffee table and clutched his ice cold beer in his hands while staring mindlessly at the ball game on screen. Alex was hardly staring at the crowds for two seconds when his mind drifted off. The cheers, the announcements, the calls – all the noise quickly changed into white noise, waves, soft whooshing. The ice cold beverage in his hands quickly lost its yeasty flavor and turned into something sweeter, something resembling a cocktail. Not even the stupid toy that was floating atop of the creamy surface holding a piece of pineapple bothered him. He had closed his eyes and a wide smirk occupied his face. The salty, sandy, almost therapeutic air wafted under his nose as he drummed his two fingers of his right hand against his thigh, mimicking a rhythmic beat on the bongos- or something else.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Alex startled softly but went right back to his vision, his smirk growing wider. With his eyes still closed, he softly motioned for her to join him. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes to slits and looked at Jo who was standing a couple of feet off of him, still looking at him questioningly. He chuckled.

"I'm melting into the sandy hills by the seaaa…," he mused melodically. "The sun is shining down on meeee..," he exaggerated, knowing Jo was becoming irritated.

"I _think_ that you think the sun is shining out of your ass, nerd, what the fuck is this?" Alex chuckled at Jo's lack of understanding and sighed.

"My ex-wife used to hallucinate about beach vacations when she had her brain tumors," he explained softly, not quite able to leave his vision behind, moving his head in waves, humming. It wasn't until Alex's humming floated into the silence of the room that he realized Jo - again - hadn't replied. He opened his eyes lazily, looking at her steadily.

"So, this is what you do on a quiet Tuesday night?! Thinking about your _ex-_ wife? What the hell, Alex?" Alex observed Jo's scrunched up face for a second or two before pointing at the game, sighing. Jo's gaze followed his pointer, shaking her head in confusion.

"It's marvelous what a sick brain can come up with…," he told her, putting his arm on the backrest, motioning for her to come sit with him. Jo turned her head a couple of inches, her eyebrows laced together in a frown.

"You're scaring me, Alex. What are you saying?" Alex sighed.

"There's this kid on psych. The idiots and I have been treating him today. I saw him the other day up in his ward, talking to Michael Jordan," he elaborated. Jo bit her lip and kneaded her fingers, listening. Alex gulped down a sip of his beer and licked his lips. "I looked up his chart when his doctor came up and explained they were balancing in between a diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia and generalized personality disorder," he pointed out, making Jo nod curtly. "Which is nonsense! _The boy has a tumor_ ," Alex added matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry, Alex," Jo took a step towards Alex, her hands opening up to him when he interrupted.

"No, Jo, don't be… don't you see?"

"What do you mean by that?" Jo sat down cautiously and looked puzzled.

"What I mean is… he's not faking. He's not crazy. He _is_ actually talking to Michael Jordan," Alex gave her a second to digest and pulled her closer against him, so they were sitting comfortably. "Those doctors up there… they were going to medicate him, at his age… they were probably gonna institutionalize him. You know… like they do with too many people out there," he said, his gaze falling downwards until he felt Jo's fingers brush his chin, and looked up, smiling at her to show he was being genuine but fine. "Anyways, I requested to do some tests on him. It wasn't easy, it was hard. But it was just as hard as with Izzie back then… these tumors are tiny. They're smaller than any microfibers in our freaking brains… but I found it… I found it, I… I," he stammered quickly, rubbing his forehead in part frenzy, part delight. "I did it, you know… I wasn't sure at first, you know… but the way he talked to… well, _Michael_ … it just… it had too many parallels to those moments when Izzie went to her tropical beach vacations," Alex sighed. He turned his face towards Jo who smiled at him with that hint of pride in her eyes, making him roll his eyes. Jo arranged herself better to fit in Alex's arm crook.

"That's because you're one hell of a surgeon and never settle for the most obvious explanation," she gushed.

"Yeah, well, come on, I have some space in my hammock, here, I'll scoot," Alex brought her closer, chuckling. Jo groaned.

"I hate the beach," she mumbled.

"You won't hate this beach," Alex just soothed, patting Jo's head.

"I'll be sandy in all those spots you really don't wanna be sandy in, trust me," Jo rebuked. Alex grunted. "Just go ahead and meet up with your ex-wife, I'll watch the game right here, on this smooth, clean, cozy couch," she murmured against Alex's neck.

"Oh, she used to go with her dead fiancé, no worries there," Alex gave her back serenely.

"Oh, that's so twisted," Jo squeezed her eyes shut.

"Nah, just sick," Alex answered, tweedling with Jo's fingers. Jo smiled softly with a tinge of insecurity within the depth of her eyes, snuggling in even closer, shutting her eyes and letting out a long breath. There was a long but content pause of silence between them, only accompanied by their breathing and the rustling of Alex's fingers that went up and down Jo's arm.

"It's too hot," she complained after a while.

"It's nice," Alex gave her back quietly.

"The air is too salty," she continued.

"It's said to be very healthy," Alex chuckled tenderly.

"The sand is itchy," Jo tested him further.

"I will get it off of you, no worries, I will get every tiny grain," Alex whispered against her, smoothing his hands across all her best parts. "Here, have some Long Island Iced…," Alex started, handing her the beer to have a better grip on her when the doorbell rang. "Noooo, I was just getting started with rubbing the sunscreen on you…," he whined. Jo entangled herself smilingly.

"I'll be right back getting you your Mediterranean Pizza, babe," she soothed him quietly, walking towards the door.

"Tell pool boy to get in here and fan us with some palm branches," he called after her, earning a snicker.

"Trust me, with the way things are going down at this beach of yours, you won't want anybody watching us in the near future," she winked before turning the corner, Alex raising his eyebrows and fanning himself at these prospects.


End file.
